Chapter 323

Along and Gong Ying's procedures were settled; today Wei Ming went to the airport to see them off, with Teacher Yang and Gong Ru also present—this counted as a family meeting, and the two women chatted happily, each praising the other's child/sister.

Teacher Yang was very satisfied with her future daughter-in-law: tall, beautiful, and in the same field, giving them plenty to talk about.

Though she was a few years older, her son was mature-looking, so it was fine—after all, in this world, there were women eight or nine years older than their husbands.

Gong Ying's family background also pleased her: her sister was a nationally renowned actress, her parents both worked in Shanghai, and she had an older brother and sister there too, so she could confidently follow Along to Hong Kong to make her way.

Unlike herself, who had stayed behind back then because she was the only child and couldn't leave her aging father, leading to this long separation.

After her husband's imprisonment and her father's strong urging, she had decided that this time, once in Hong Kong, she would settle down with Liu Bin, and later, when conditions allowed, bring her father over.

Wei Ming chatted briefly with Teacher Yang, then called Along aside and handed him two letters with instructions.

"When you get to Hong Kong, first find Amin, give him these two letters—one to Tan Yonglin, one to Zhang Mingmin."

"Got it."

"Send me timely updates on any feedback from there, and also observe Hong Kong's public opinion on the Sichuan floods—you can fax, and if necessary, make long-distance calls; don't worry about the cost."

"Mm." Along didn't ask what he was planning—he just followed orders.

After seeing them off, Wei Ming and Gong Ru exchanged a glance, then silently went out and mounted their motorcycles to leave.

Xue Jie hugged Wei Ming's waist, her palm comfortably resting against his abs: "The house paperwork is done; Granny Zhu says she'll move within a week."

Wei Ming said: "Mm, I've contacted the construction team I used before—they should finish by the end of the year."

"Huh? It'll take that long?"

"This time I'm planning a thorough renovation: new flooring, pavilions and scenery, plants and trees, even indoor toilets."

Thanks to Jin Yong and the Ming Pao, though he praised many aspects of the authorities on this northern trip, he also pointed out shortcomings he saw—like Beijing's public hygiene, especially the public toilets in July, which were simply unbearable.

If it rained a bit more, oh, it'd be truly authentic.

If overseas tourists stayed only in hotels, it didn't matter—but once they stepped into Beijing's everyday life, they'd find such filth and stench intolerable.

Wei Ming couldn't stand it; foreigners would be even worse off.

After the Ming Pao published the article, Beijing's sanitation department immediately acted, launching a citywide renovation and upgrade of public toilets.

Wei Ming could use this opportunity to upgrade the sanitation systems in both Sihe Academy residences, elevating the living experience another notch.

He wasn't just thinking of his own comfort—he was preparing to do something for the disaster victims in Sichuan.

While waiting for Along's feedback, he started writing songs, composing several Cantonese songs he'd previously dismissed.

Hong Kong was also reporting on the Sichuan disaster; neutral papers like Ta Kung Pao, Wen Hui Bao, and Ming Pao had wide reach, covering nearly all Hong Kong residents with decent economic standing.

Even Zhou Huimin saw them—the photos and articles tore at her heart.

Perhaps because of her affection for Alming, she'd heard many stories about Sichuan: its giant pandas, its dinosaur fossils, its little rabbits—and now she began writing to Alming again, wanting to donate her pocket money.

As for donation channels, she couldn't find any, so she could only send the money directly to Alming.

After the new leadership took office, the mainland's attitude toward international aid had changed—it was no longer adamantly refusing.

It was now willing to inform the outside world of its disaster situation and accept limited aid, though it didn't actively request international rescue assistance.

Our stance toward international aid remained conservative: we merely notified the UN Disaster Relief Agency, reported our situation, and let them come inspect; we didn't actively push for how much money or supplies they could secure.

While this preserved some dignity, it certainly failed to fully harness overseas Chinese sympathy and love for their homeland.

After mailing the letters, Amin went to the recording studio rented by Zhang Mingmin's company.

While Zhang Mingmin was recording "Mother in the Candlelight," she could record "First Love," though it would cost something.

Zhang Mingmin could help arrange the arrangement, but the backing track still cost money; for better music quality, Amin insisted the money be spent—after all, Haoli Lai would foot the bill.

This was her second day recording; the first day, lacking experience, had flaws, but today it was quickly done.

Zhou Huimin was thrilled—she now had her own work!

She wanted to treat Zhang Mingmin to dinner to thank him.

"Next time—I'm performing tonight at Haicheng Nightclub."

"Wow, Haicheng Nightclub? Amazing!" Zhou Huimin praised—Haicheng Nightclub was a high-end venue seating over a thousand; only singers with some achievement performed there, with high appearance fees, like Xu Xiaofeng and Zhen Ni.

At that time, Hong Kong had no large stadiums like the Coliseum; performance venues were mostly places seating one or two thousand people, or the Elizabeth Stadium, which had 3, 00 seats—the largest in Hong Kong.

After leaving the studio, Zhou Huimin detoured to Central to see the under-construction Haoli Lai branch—when it opened, the song Alming wrote for her would officially debut.

She asked a construction worker why none of the three bosses were visible.

The worker told her: "Oh, Liu Boss's wife arrived; the other two bosses are hosting a welcome dinner for them."

"Huh? Liu Boss's wife?"

When she reached home, Zhou Huimin saw someone familiar—Liu Boss's son.

"A-Long?" Zhou Huimin was delighted, looking around—A-Long was here, so was Alming close behind?

Along smiled: "Don't look—Alming didn't come, but he brought two letters for you."

Zhou Huimin felt disappointed, then slightly comforted—until she took the letters and saw one addressed to Tan Yonglin, the other to Zhang Mingmin.

You sneaky Alming—you wrote to two men but not to me!

Along couldn't read the girl's mind—he told Zhou Huimin: "Alming said to deliver these letters to them as soon as possible—they're about the Sichuan floods."

"Huh? About the floods?" Amin said, "I just mailed him a letter and donated my pocket money."

Along: "Alming will be very happy."

Zhou Huimin: "I know where Zhang Mingmin is—I'm going right now."

Along looked at the sky: "No need to rush so much—you can go tomorrow."

Thinking of the nightclub, Zhou Huimin didn't dare go alone: "Alright, I'll call Ah Lun first."

To save time, Zhou Huimin arranged to meet Tan Yonglin near Zhang Mingmin's company, planning to see both at once.

Tan Yonglin heard Wei Ming had written back—he was ecstatic; he'd get another signature song!

After arriving in Hong Kong, Along first settled the people he brought, then had his mother take his girlfriend to dinner with his father.

He went straight to Zhou Huimin's home but didn't know the exact address, waiting hours until she returned.

After completing Wei Ming's task, Along passed a cinema, saw the new movie poster, and lit up—he immediately called Teacher Chen Qing, two classmates, and three animators from Shanghai Animation Studio.

"Everyone rested up? Let's go watch a movie."

"What movie?"

"I heard Hong Kong movies are mostly poison."

"Not some decadent flick, right?"

"Let capitalism's sugar-coated bullets hit me!"

Along: "It's the animated film 'Old Master Q'—you've all read the comics, right?"

'Old Master Q' was a comic series popular for twenty years, but its influence hadn't reached the mainland; Along grew up in Guangdong and had read many as a child—it was his most memorable Hong Kong comic.

The others shook their heads, never heard of it; only Teacher Chen knew, and added: "The main characters of 'Old Master Q' plagiarized the comic figures of Peng Di from mainland comics."

"Huh?"

"Really?" Along learned this for the first time

Teacher Chen said: "That was the 1930s and 40s—southern comic circles were dominated by Zhang Leping's Sanmao, while in Beijing and Tianjin, Peng Di's Old Master and Old White Potato were famous. When Chen Ze came to Hong Kong, he probably thought no one would know, so he slightly altered Peng Di's comic characters and used them directly, but the stories were his own, reflecting Hong Kong's secular culture."

Although he disapproved of such behavior, Teacher Chen felt it was still worth watching—any series that made the leap from comics to film must have something unique.

Ah Long said: "I think the same. I want to see how they filmed it. Comics don't make much profit, but if they turn it into animation or a movie, we could even afford to lose money at the comic stage."

In truth, Ah Long's deepest desire was still animation; he did comics to hone his basic skills.

"Old Master" had already been adapted into multiple live-action films, but this was the first time it was made into an animated film, titled "Seven-Colored Cartoon Old Master."

However, Hong Kong lacked animation talent, so the film's behind-the-scenes crew was almost entirely Taiwanese.

One of the directors, Cai Zhizhong, and the lead animator, Ao Youxiang, were both well-known Taiwanese comic artists; their work "Wulong Yuan" was also widely recognized.

After watching it, Liu Rulong, Teacher Chen Qing, and others all agreed: it was still quite smooth. Though less refined than "Havoc in Heaven" or "Nezha Conquers the Dragon King," it had stronger comedy and felt lively and entertaining.

And the cost probably wasn't high. Ah Long thought again of the word "animation" he used to doodle in the bottom-right corner of his sketchbooks—wondering when he'd finally make his own animated film.

The next day, Ah Min arrived early with the letters, and they met at a drink shop downstairs.

Zhang Mingmin arrived first and asked Ah Min: "What's this letter from Ah Ming about?" "My hen, I didn't open it—wait a bit, I'll give it to you later."

Ah Min ordered drinks, and soon Tan Yonglin arrived, wearing sunglasses and a mask—he was now something of a teen idol, with many schoolgirls adoring him.

"Who's this? Mr. Zhang Mingmin?" Tan Yonglin recognized Zhang Mingmin.

Zhang Mingmin recognized him too—after all, Ah Ming had only written songs for these two in Hong Kong, and they had long been acquainted through their music.

Before the two could exchange pleasantries, Zhou Huimin handed them each a letter.

When Tan Yonglin saw Zhang Mingmin, he knew today was about more than just writing songs.

Indeed, the envelope held no song—only a handwritten letter from Ah Ming.

The two letters were nearly identical: Wei Ming hoped to use music to help the disaster area, raising some charitable funds.

He couldn't handle this alone, but he could do the core work: writing songs and rallying people.

Since this was a charity concert, it couldn't be held on the mainland—everyone there was poor and couldn't contribute much. So, naturally, they'd seek funds from those with money, meaning Wei Ming believed the concert should be held in Hong Kong.

Since it would be held in Hong Kong, they needed singers with influence there.

Among Hong Kong's young singers, Tan Yonglin was among the top.

In his letter to Tan Yonglin, Wei Ming offered to write him a custom song in exchange for Tan Yonglin and the singers he knew participating in a charity performance.

Note: one song per person!

Wei Ming would write the song for free, entirely voluntary—but they too must contribute voluntarily. The songs would be compiled into an album, with all proceeds going to charity, and they could also include them in their own albums.

Seeing this letter, Tan Yonglin's heart skipped a beat.

Charity—he was willing to do it. His father was born on the mainland and had once been a member of the national football team, winning glory for the country. His father taught him not only football but also many patriotic values.

But now his career in Taiwan was thriving; thanks to Wei Ming's songs, his Mandarin albums sold well there, and his film "If I Were Real" was about to premiere—this film, moreover, satirized the north.

If he joined a charity event on the mainland now, would the Freedom Association harass him? Would his company approve?

As Tan Yonglin hesitated, Zhang Mingmin, having finished reading the letter, felt a surge of passion and said bluntly: "Ah Ming's realm of thought is too high—what's there to discuss? If Ah Ming just calls me, any time, any place, I'll cancel everything!"

Zhou Hui asked: "So what exactly is this about?"

Zhang Mingmin explained: "It's a charity concert for the disaster-stricken people in Sichuan—we'll go up and sing a few songs. They even said they'd write songs for us for free. What songs? Even without a song, we're still going."

Zhou Hui's eyes lit up—this idea was brilliant; Ah Ming always had a way. She turned to look at Tan Yonglin.

If he hesitated any longer, he'd be seen as cowardly. Tan Yonglin raised his voice: "I'm equally obligated—I'll tell my friends about this and try to make it as big as possible."

At that point, maybe the law wouldn't punish everyone, Tan Yonglin thought, recalling Zhang Guorong, Chen Baiqiang, and Ah B.

Zhou Hui said: "Then go ask quickly—how many people are in? Ah Ming's waiting for a reply."

Zhang Mingmin said: "Mr. Zhang Yaorong, a shareholder of Haicheng Nightclub, has lots of experience organizing concerts. I'll ask if he's willing to help—this kind of event definitely needs a planner."

"Yes, Uncle Yao has plenty of experience—this is definitely the right person to turn to." Now that the decision was made, Tan Yonglin actively contributed ideas: "We should first confirm the planner. If Uncle Yao agrees, then we can fix the number of participants and the venue."

Later, it was this very Mr. Zhang Yaorong who pioneered the Hong Kong Coliseum concerts, deeply collaborating with Tan Yonglin, Anita Mui, and Xu Guanjie—including Anita Mui's farewell concert in a wedding dress, which he produced.

Of course, this kind of event also required official coordination, whether from the mainland or Hong Kong—otherwise, who would oversee the donations, how would funds be used, and how would order at the venue be maintained? This wasn't something a few individuals could handle alone.

Wei Ming had been waiting, until he received the first fax from Ah Long, confirming that Tan Yonglin and Zhang Mingmin had both agreed—he then took action.

"Biaozi, you met Uncle Liao, right? Can you still get in touch with him? I need to speak with him."

Biaozi pointed to his large face: "We just met once. Do I look like I have his contact info? How big of a face do I have?"

Huang Jiaoyan, with her swollen belly, said: "You don't, but can Director Wang not have it? He was there that day too—he chatted happily with Uncle Liao."

Although Director Wang's rank was far below Uncle Liao's, their shared love of film made them old acquaintances—Uncle Liao had frequently borrowed film reels from Beiyingchang.

Wei Ming slapped his forehead: "Of course! I'll go see Old Wang!"

"What's up, Mingge?" Biaozi called from behind.

Wei Ming: "Big business. A great good deed!"

At Beiyingchang, Wei Ming headed straight for the director's office and explained his purpose to Director Wang.

Director Wang put down his documents: "Xiao Wei, you're saying you want to organize a charity concert in Hong Kong with Hong Kong singers to raise donations for Sichuan's disaster area?"

"Yes."

"Is that even possible?"

"I've promised it—anyone who joins will get a song I write specially for them for free. I think that's still very attractive to many singers."

Director Wang: "Uh, this…"

This sounded arrogant, but Xiao Wei really did have the right to be arrogant—his songs weren't many, but each one had enormous popularity, especially that English song, which had even become a hit internationally.

Recently, an Italian crew filming "Marco Polo" came to Beijing, and Beiyingchang was assigned to assist them—they already knew "Moonlight Shadow," and the song had topped the Italian music charts.

When I told them the composer was Chinese, they were stunned, and asked: "So 'The Lion King' was also written by a Chinese?!"

Old Wang was generous enough—he even took the rare initiative to call the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office for Wei Ming.

Uncle Liao held a special status, serving multiple roles—he personally oversaw the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, the Hong Kong Affairs Office, and later the Taiwan Affairs Office, so this matter had to go through him.

Wei Ming's charity concert needed assistance from our side's forces in Hong Kong—for example, using donations to purchase relief supplies and handling publicity.

He was low-ranking and insignificant, but one word from Uncle Liao would settle it.

Uncle Liao's secretary still remembered Wei Ming—he'd been deeply disappointed when he couldn't meet him during the visit of the "Heroes Born in Youth" production team.

After learning of Wei Ming's idea through Wang Yang, Uncle Liao said: "Have him come over. Let's talk face to face."

Wang Yang feared Wei Ming might go to the wrong office and said directly: "I'll take you there—I'll find a driver."

Wei Ming hurried to say: "No need for a driver—I have a license."

"Huh? Can you even drive?"

"I passed the test myself."

Old Wang got into Wei Ming's car, bewildered: "You know what? You really do drive better than those drivers in the factory."

Of course—thirty years' driving experience, and he'd driven every kind of car on every kind of road. What could they possibly compare to him?

At the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, under the secretary's guidance, the two quickly met Uncle Liao—an old man with no airs about him.

"Xiao Wei, finally I meet you. I've long heard of your name."

To show respect, Wei Ming clasped his hands: "I've long admired you as well."

"I know that's sincere—I've read your novel 'The Right Path of Humanity Is the Vast River.' I even wrote an inscription for it."

That novel mentioned his parents, Zhongkai Gong and Xiangning Lady, and even drew some inspiration from them.

Uncle Liao added: "Tell me—why did you come up with this idea?"

Wei Ming: "At first, it was selfish—I consider Sichuan my half-hometown. My mother is from Sichuan. When the floods hit, my grandmother was living with us in Yanjing. Seeing the situation at home, she cried every day. Thinking of her, I imagined how many families in Sichuan were starving, their tears already dried up. At that moment, I knew I had to do something."

"Why a concert? And why in Hong Kong?"

"Because it best leverages my strength—writing songs. How much can I personally donate? But this way, I can mobilize tens of thousands of Hong Kong compatriots—little by little, we build a mountain. And another benefit: it brings the hearts of Hong Kong people and mainlanders together, breathing as one, sharing the same fate."

"Hearts linked, breathing as one, sharing the same fate." Uncle Liao repeated these words.

Wei Ming nodded: "I believe doing good deeds can bridge the gap between two peoples who were once strangers. Whether receiving kindness or giving it, everyone will grow more united through this shared cause."

Wei Ming's words impressed Uncle Liao—such insight from one so young. No wonder he was a true genius.

Thus, this concert was more than charity—it had a united front function!

Consider those Hong Kong stars—they normally dared not touch the mainland, fearing Taiwan would seize on it as leverage.

But because of charity, they might for the first time draw close to the mainland, achieving a precious thaw. The significance was immense!

"Xiao Wei, how many Hong Kong singers have agreed to join so far?"

Wei Ming: "Two so far—both I've worked with before. I'm still waiting to hear how many more they can bring."

Uncle Liao said: "Why wait here for news? You should go straight to Hong Kong and oversee everything personally."

"Me?"

"Of course you. You initiated this—you're the most suitable person." Uncle Liao gripped Wei Ming's hand tightly again. "On behalf of the people of Sichuan, thank you."

(Wishing everyone a peaceful Dragon Boat Festival—what fillings are in your zongzi?)

(End of Chapter)